


the underneath

by spideypeach



Category: Hadestown, Hadestown - Mitchell, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man - Fandom, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), hadestown: the musical, spider-man x hadestown
Genre: F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), greek tragedy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 05:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21131342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideypeach/pseuds/spideypeach
Summary: in which peter parker goes way down to get his love back // hadestown au





	the underneath

Peter had never believed in magic. There had always been a scientific explanation for everything, absolutely everything. He studied Thor in physics, Captain America was built on pure science, even the Scarlet Witch was not truly so much of a witch as her alias suggested.

Peter had never believed in magic until he found himself hiking downward, the sound of his feet pounding in his head. He was headed way down, into the pits of the underground, where he was told that a god awaited him. There were gods on Asgard, and apparently, there were gods on earth. 

The only thing he wanted was to understand this all, how it could be, why it hadn’t appeared before, but he was stuck spiraling into his own thoughts about meeting the god of the deep down below.

There was much more that he wanted. What he wanted most of all was the reason he was taking this long walk into the depths of the earth that had only just been uncovered, and only uncovered by him. 

This being was not the god of death. He was a force of evil, a trickster, someone that lured vulnerable souls beneath the earth into a binding contract. It was a promise of freedom, but hidden in between the lines of the document was the secret of slavery, an eternity of suffering. It was for those who felt as if they had nothing left to lose. 

His face was sweating behind the mask, he had been walking for hours. His legs ached, and with each step was a shooting pain into his lower back. Even so, he kept on the dark path, swatting away the ghostly voices that tugged at his biceps, begging him to stray, begging him to give up.

Your face was plastered to the inside of his eyelids and tattooed on the darkness in front of him. 

Why, Y/N, why?

...

Depression had been a dark angel constantly hovering over your days, plaguing you worse than God plaguing Egypt. Peter couldn’t understand how heavy your body was, how your mind felt like it had beaten itself to a bloody pulp. Even after all of the tireless conversations, he only could conceptualize your mental illness. 

Peter Parker was unaware that he had prevented you from giving up multiple times over, but when the mysterious man with the illuminated smile had offered you a deal…

It was one you couldn’t resist. All of your pain would end. It was an offer that even the boy you loved couldn’t make. 

You hoped he wouldn’t blame you. As you fell into the safe arms of a man offering you safety, peace, a break from the war in your mind, you knew that he had to. Not just for your sake, but for his own. You drifted into the underground unaware that what came after your short life could be much, much worse. 

…

Peter didn’t usually sing, but he sang a fictional melody as he cascaded, to get his mind off of the despairing thoughts he didn’t want to fall victim to. The worst part of him was insisting that he would fail. It would all be for nothing. 

Who was Peter Parker to believe that he could take on a mysterious being? 

If he had his mentor, he would have known what to do. Tony Stark had a plan for everything, even if it was developed at the very last minute. Now, Peter Parker was growing up, and taking on this villain was another step in the long journey that his life was becoming. 

How had he been so distracted not to notice your suffering? He had failed you, so preoccupied with saving strangers that he couldn’t save the girl he loved above all. He should have heard your cries. He should have taken a second to look up from Spider-Man to see you, suffering, right in front of him. 

There was a blinding light, and Peter’s arm shot up to shade his eyes. The LED sunk into him, and voice rung out, accusatory in tone.

“How did you arrive here?”

He hesitated, unsure of how to explain himself without getting killed, “I-I’ve come to take Y/N home!” 

The voice chuckled, condescendingly, “And what makes you so bold as to think that she isn’t already?”

“She-she belongs with me!” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence. 

The light dimmed, and a tall, pale man with piercing white hair was peering down on him in a tower, a melancholy woman standing at his arm. He was hardly listening, he didn’t want to hear the ballad of a boy forlorn for someone he had let slip through his fingers. 

“Why, Peter Parker, do you see yourself so worthy to take her back to the world above?”

Peter’s eyes bounced between the pair, an idea sparking onto his lips, “Because you have known love before, Hades.”

“Dare you speak my name?”

“Yes. Haven’t you known love before?”

The woman had taken a step back, shying away from the bold inquiry. The man, the god, looked startled, unsure of how to respond to him. 

“It’s you!” 

Your voice was music, better than anything that Peter had sung on the way down, and feeling you in his arms was a miracle. He cupped your face in his hands, then picked you up into a hug, guilt continuing to feed on his insides. Your skin was gray, dirt patches spotted your cheeks, and he had noticed the way it was too easy to lift you off the ground. It was worse than you had ever been before. He had abandoned you, it was all his fault.

It’s no use! She will remain…

The whispers felt like fate, but he had defeated fate before. He had lost so much, he refused to lose you as well. 

“You have felt love like me! Remember the way that you felt when you saw her!” he was clinging to you as if he would never let go. If he let go, it meant he was giving up, and Peter would not give up on you.

The god was conflicted, Peter had touched a part of his heart that hadn’t been explored in ages. There had been ages of building a sturdy wall that somehow the boy had put a crack in. 

Peter removed his mask, showing the god was he was: a boy.

She will remain…

Their eyes were locked with stone-cold stares, icy glares that could cut through brick. While the god thought he was hiding his inner battle, Peter knew that he would come out a winner. He had to. He had no choice but to defeat the man that was attempting to be the god of death.

In his irises, Peter saw the woman standing at the god’s arm dancing through a field of flowers, lively and green, radiant and beautiful. She saw the good that she had brought to him, her lips closing around the fruit of a pomegranate, a wedding taking place in the deepest part of the underneath. It was all beautiful and light and wonderful, times where a man who had succumbed to darkness had felt happy. Peter’s words were jarring, hopefully enough to allow them to walk back to the world above. 

“Don’t you remember the song, sir?” Peter looked at you, trying to hide his desperation. 

“The song.”

Peter had never heard you sing, but as soon as you did, your angelic voice echoed off the walls, as if cherubs themselves had descended to fight for your defense. He felt every intake of breath in your diaphragm as you sang the haunting melody. It was prose that hadn’t been sung since the last time that the two lovers in front of them had spoken words of affection to each other, which judging by their reactions, had been quite some time. 

What has become of the heart of that man  
Now that the man is king?  
What had become of the heart of that man  
Now that he has everything?

When Peter took his eyes off of you to look at the god, he saw that his enemy was no longer glowering down at him. Instead, he was gazing at the woman, the back of his hand resting cautiously on her cheek. They spoke to each other in whispers, until a soft kiss brought them close together. There seemed to be a collective gasp from the souls that eavesdropped, from the ears hidden in the walls. 

“Let’s go home,” you whispered, your arms tightening around Peter’s torso. 

“Will they let us…” the demon in his head was still echoing the mantra that she would remain right where she was. 

“They have to. How can they not?”

The gods were dancing in the wavering silence, accompanied by the curious whispers of those hiding amongst them. 

“Can we go?” Peter’s voice was quivering, he wanted to avoid conflict if possible, there would be another time to take down the villain, and it was possible that he had warmed his heart. Maybe he would change for the better.

“I...don’t know.” 

…

They had been sitting, huddled together, for the better part of an hour. Peter was getting restless, his senses remaining on an all-time high. It was exhausting. He just wanted you back in his room safe from his arms, never letting you out of his sight. It was his fault that you were here, and he wouldn’t make that mistake ever again.

“Hand in hand,” he whispered in your ear. “We’ll walk out of here together, hand in hand.”

More time passed, his irritability grew, he craved to lay down to shut his eyes, but they wouldn’t let him. 

“You can go,” the woman spoke, “but on one condition.” 

Standing, Peter felt you slide his hand into his and grip onto his forearm nervously, “Yes?”

“You must lead her out, and she can follow behind. Peter Parker, if you look back, Y/N will return to the underneath for the rest of time, and there will be no second chances.” 

While his nerves lowered, they weren’t completely gone, and his senses were still running off the rails, but they had a chance. They had one shot, one shining moment to walk their way out of this dark and awful place, to find sunlight, to finally be together. For Peter to never take his love for granted again.

But one thing stirred him.

“Is this a trick?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, “No. It’s a test.”

“Peter,” you spoke softly, resting a hand on his chest, “If we can get out of here...so can everyone else.”

He looked around him at the curious bodies that had started to occupy the space. They were frightened as if any sudden movement would get them severely punished. They stared at the pair of frightened teenagers, seeing what they hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

Hope.

It was a lot of responsibility.

“We have to trust each other and ourselves, Pete,” you whispered. “You know the way, I’ll follow you.” 

Then Peter started walking, feeling the safety of your hand slipping away, and he started on the journey that he had taken what had felt like years before, despite it only being hours. 

The chills returned, the darkness encased him, and he pressed forward, each foot weighing him down, the doubt pulling him down further. His heart was heavy, his mind was widdled down to a fraction of what it was before. There was not a single anxious thought that did not zip around his head. He kept walking. Each step pounding into the ground. He could feel each ounce of sweat on his body: underneath his arms, falling down his face, seeping through the suit on his chest. The incline was much more of a demon than the decline. 

Time passed, the ache returned to his feet, his body wanted to give out, but if he wanted to save you, he had to keep going. He had to put aside the screams of his muscles, the brittleness of his bones, and keep walking. 

Who was he to think he could take on a god-like being? He must look like a fool, walking out, thinking that his love was behind him. They were all laughing at him down below. No one truly needed help, possibly not even you. Maybe this was all a part of the big, horrible plan to fool Peter into thinking that he was the hero. He was a fool. Who did he think he was?

Were the voices in his head his own or were they somebody else’s?

The light, he could barely see it, but it was there. He was almost there, they were almost there. Were you behind him? Were you there? You had come so far, but he felt himself…

The shock on your face, the disappointment, the confusion, it would rip Peter apart every night until he died.

“It’s you.” 

“It’s me...Peter…”

“No-” 

Fragments of you were torn away by the hands of darkness, leaving Peter standing still with his outstretched hand, grasping for a dream that he had decided to wake himself from. 

You were gone.

He was alone.


End file.
